Keep Telling Yourself
by Icebabe59
Summary: Molly keeps telling herself one simple lie to protect her and those around her, but soon she believes it. Sad kinda angsty because I have feels. Post TRF On a side note, today is the anniversary of the very first episode of Sherlock.


It had been only a day since Sherlock's fall. Molly may know what happened and may have helped Sherlock fake his own death, but that didn't make things any easier. At his funeral she cried alongside John. She convinced herself that he was really dead, it was necessary to believe that the casket going into the ground that day really did hold Sherlock's body.

As the casket was lowered into the ground she closed her eyes and pictures Sherlock laying there on the gurney, pale and bloody, looking dead. She heard John's muffled crying next to her and silently let a tear slip from her watery eyes as well, Mrs. Hudson was there as well sniffling into a handkerchief. Even Mycroft had snuck into the back to listen to the ceremony.

_Sherlock Holmes is dead. Sherlock Holmes is dead. The great consulting detective is dead. Sherlock Holmes is dead, and he said he was a fake. Sherlock Holmes is a fake. Sherlock Holmes is dead._

The mantra kept going in her mind, running like a ticker tape at the bottom of a news broadcast. She could not let herself forget that, not until she believed it herself. They had fooled John and even Mycroft, now Molly had to fool herself. She thought the words so much that she could practically see the letters written on a piece of paper and then sliding across her memory.

People always say the nicest things about someone at a funeral. No one mentioned his bad habits, or his dislike of people. Everyone talked about how brilliant he was, and how well he could read people. They made him sound like such an amazing person. He was an amazing person. Molly thought about how amazing he was, how he had been willing to give his life to save the others. How brilliant he had been to fool everyone into thinking he was dead. Then she remembered she can't think like that.

_Sherlock Holmes is dead. Sherlock Holmes is dead. The great consulting detective is dead. Sherlock Holmes is dead, and he said he was a fake. Sherlock Holmes is a fake. Sherlock Holmes is dead._

The thought kept steady. He was dead, if should could just convince herself it was true then everyone would be safe. He just wanted everyone to be safe. He hadn't wanted to hurt them; he hadn't wanted to hurt John. He only had a few friends, Molly counted herself among them, all though she was sure he hadn't. He hadn't wanted to hurt Lestrade, or Mrs. Hudson.

Three months later things were starting to settle back down again. John took up a small teaching job at Bart's that paid just enough for him to live on. Molly had been surprised that John would work here, but Mike Stamford put up with more than most employers might have given that he had known Sherlock and knew John so well. Every once in a while Molly would see him in the halls and they would smile at each other. Maybe they would grab some coffee if they happened to end shifts at the same time. Molly so badly wanted to tell him.

_Sherlock Holmes is dead. Sherlock Holmes is dead. The great consulting detective is dead. Sherlock Holmes is dead, and he said he was a fake. Sherlock Holmes is a fake. Sherlock Holmes is dead._

But that was against the rules. She couldn't break the rules. If she broke the rules then Sherlock died in vain and John and Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade would all die as well. The one rules she had the hardest time with though was accepting that Sherlock said he was a fake. Molly could not believe it. When the stories were printed in the paper, well at first all Molly had done was taken the paper to a quiet place and cried while trying to read it. She cried a lot less now, though sometimes when she was alone at her flat and it was dark she did.

After a year things followed a pretty steady pattern. Molly didn't have to remind her self so much. She believed herself, except every once in a while she would dream about him, about Sherlock. And she would wake up remembering, but then told herself it was just a dream. Only a dream. And that is the way it would stay, she was sure of it.

_Sherlock Holmes is dead. Sherlock Holmes is dead. The great consulting detective is dead. Sherlock Holmes is dead, and he said he was a fake. Sherlock Holmes is a fake. Sherlock Holmes is dead._


End file.
